


What We're Doing

by luluren



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Bastogne, Haguenau, Home, M/M, comfort through the war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:58:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5142230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luluren/pseuds/luluren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The feel of callused thumbs sliding along his skin is like a balm, soothing Babe’s frayed nerves and he takes a deep breath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We're Doing

_December ‘44_

He loses it in Bastogne because of a few personal things left on the body of a young man he really didn’t know all that well but made a promise to none-the-less.

Goddammit.

He leans against a tree, exhausted. So tired that if he closes his eyes he might actually doze off. It’s tempting, really tempting to slip into nothingness for a while.

He doesn’t want to remember anything.

And then his legs decide to stop working, his jacket getting caught on the tree bark as he goes down. He doesn’t stop until his ass is on the ground and his face is buried in his arms. 

The heavy, intense weight that’s in his chest and threatening to burst out is scary and he swallows it back as best as he’s able, but a few sobs escape and seem to echo through the trees. He’s shaking uncontrollably and it hurts, it hurts so fucking much. 

Julian. A goddamn virgin and not even old enough to have a fucking beer, and Babe get his stuff, couldn’t save him. He could punch something from the unfairness of it all but the anger comes out as a high-pitched whine, and Babe bites his jacket, willing himself to calm the fuck down. 

He can’t lose it, not now. This shit needs to be pushed down and remembered at some date very _very_ far in the future, not right here while he’s still in the middle of it. Because right here, _right fucking now,_ there’s no time for anything but staying alive. 

Hands are sliding up his arms and he jerks back, automatically reaching for the gun on the ground beside him. But it’s no German. 

It’s Doc.

He’s staring at Babe with sympathetic eyes underneath a green helmet, and Babe tries to keep it down again but the look Roe’s giving him isn’t helping. 

“It’s ok,” Doc says quietly, tugging Babe’s helmet off and drawing him into his arms, holding tightly. “It’s ok, Babe.”

But that’s the thing, Babe thinks as he clutches the back of Roe’s jacket, his nose in the man’s shoulder – it’s not ok. It’s not fucking _ok_ that Julian’s lying dead out there in the forest and the goddamn Krauts —

“Shh,” Roe whispers into Babe’s ear, his fingers running up into red hair. “He knows you would’ve. Knows you tried.”

“It still ain’t ok,” Babe says quietly, his words muffled because he’s got his mouth pressed tight to the man’s shoulder. “I promised him, Doc.”

“You did the best you could.” Roe’s pulling back and bringing his hands up to cup Babe’s cheeks, thumbs rubbing at the wetness. “I know it ain’t fair, but he’s gone home, Edward.”

Tears are still dripping down Babe’s cheeks and it seems like Roe’s trying to wipe every single one of them away. The feel of callused thumbs sliding along his skin is like a balm, soothing Babe’s frayed nerves and he takes a deep breath. 

“And it’s ok for you to grieve,” Roe whispers, his dark eyes searching Babe’s face. 

Babe’s eyes fill again so he closes them because he can’t keep looking at Doc. Those thumbs are still rubbing at his cheeks, and Babe slides his hands around slender wrists and holds tightly. 

“I’m ok,” Babe murmurs, more to himself than the man in front of him, eyes still closed and breath hitching. “I’m ok.”

“You’re ok.” Roe’s voice is soft, and somehow closer than it was before Babe stopped looking. He’d swear he could feel the man’s breath against his skin and he shivers. 

When he opens his eyes he finds Roe’s moved in closer, and Babe watches through a haze as he presses a soft kiss to Babe’s cheek, lips lingering for a fraction of a second before crossing over to kiss the other one. Babe swallows, not sure what’s happening, but his fingers clench around those wrists a little harder. 

“It’s ok,” Roe murmurs against Babe’s skin before kissing another spot, this one just below his right eye, and Babe pulls in a deep breath because it feels – 

“Medic!”

Babe lets go of Roe’s wrists like he’s been burned, wiping frantically at the wetness on his face. He doesn’t look up until the man rises to his feet, about to turn towards the source of the yell. And when Babe does, he finds Roe staring down at him with careful eyes. 

It’s like a twist deep in his chest, and he wonders what kind of expression is on his own face as Roe lightly runs a hand across Babe’s shoulder before walking away. 

\---------------------------------------------------

_January ‘45_

It’s only a week later that Guarnere gets hit. Him and Toye both losing a leg and Buck just fucking losing it all together. 

Then that afternoon it’s Muck and Penkala who get it, but instead of losing just a leg, they lose everything. 

(How do you tell someone’s mother there ain’t enough of her boy to send home?) 

Babe finds Roe afterwards, fingering a broken rosary and he wonders whose it was. 

Later that night, Babe doesn’t go to the foxhole he shared with Bill. He goes to Roe’s. Eugene’s. Makes it there before his eyes grow hot and moist and thank God Eugene’s already there. They don’t speak as Babe curls up beside Roe, looking for warmth or comfort, whatever the man can offer. 

Gene tugs at his arm without warning, pulling Babe to him to wrap his arms around a set of shaking shoulders and drawing Babe onto his lap, holding him tight. The quiet murmur of smooth words enter Babe’s ears, _“It’s all right, Babe, it’s gonna be ok”_ and not for the first time does Babe understand why men calm immediately once Doc’s got his hands on them. 

It’s like bein’ touched by sunlight. Though that doesn’t really do it justice, he decides. There’s no words for it, it’s more like a _feeling_ and Babe wants to feel it because Guarnere, goddamn, _Guarnere_ , the one who took Babe under his wing so long ago is not here anymore. It’s the image of a ruined leg, muscles quivering and blood pouring out –

He can’t even think the words, not right now, maybe tomorrow when it’s not so fresh. Maybe never. 

Gene’s got his limbs wrapped around Babe, like he’s holding him together, keeping him from splitting into a million pieces and Babe finds himself pressing his back against the Doc’s chest, holding tightly to his arms and trying not to think. 

The soft words keep coming, and Babe clings to them, leans his head back involuntarily against Gene’s shoulder and now the other man’s lips are moving against his neck and it makes Babe shiver in a way he hasn’t shivered since leaving for Europe. Those chapped lips are cold, dry, different from the last time they touched him, but a soft groan slips out before he can stop it and Gene shifts underneath him, his hands loosening from Babe’s jacket.

Babe jerks when Gene reaches his trousers, running his cracked and red hands across his crotch and when he presses against Babe’s dick, Babe jerks harder because this isn’t right, right? He shouldn’t be getting hard because another man is fondling him but God... There’s a sick feeling in his stomach until his name is whispered in a voice that’s soft and husky and suddenly Babe’s pressing his hips up just the tiniest bit.

Despite the raging emotions hidden in that hole in the dirt, under a tarp that doesn’t keep the cold out, there’s no sound coming from the two of them, not that anyone else could hear. But Babe hears things – the sound of Gene’s breathing is heavy in his ears and there’s the sound of skin sliding along rough army trousers, grasping and pulling and driving Babe slowly insane. 

“Gene,” Babe breathes softly, unable to help himself. It’s almost embarrassing how hard he is from just a few touches but he can’t put all the blame on Gene’s fingers – it’s the way his breath hitches and the feel of his lips sliding along Babe’s neck. His hands are curled around Gene’s thighs and that’s when two things happen at once – Gene’s fingers slide to the buttons on his trousers, frantically pulling, and as Babe moves against him, he’s aware that he’s not the only one excited.

Babe opens his mouth to say something, anything, because this is moving too fucking fast and he’s not sure how it started or if he should stop it. But Gene is sliding his hand under the waistband of his trousers while his other hand holds tight to Babe’s jacket, knuckles white. Babe clutches Gene’s thighs so tight his fingers start to ache as the other man wraps a warm hand around his dick and Jesus Christ.

“Shh,” Gene whispers against his neck and Babe realizes he’s said his thoughts aloud and he clamps his mouth shut, shuts his eyes as well and tries not to squirm and shake like he’s going out of his damn mind. 

Gene starts pushing his hips up, rubbing a hard length against Babe’s ass and Babe finds himself pressing back, a little bit horrified at how turned on he is but his body has a mind of it’s own as they grind together and breathe together and it’s all just –

“Babe… _s’il vous plait,”_ Gene whispers, his breath catching and that’s what does it, what sends Babe over the edge, hearing the want and the fucking _need_ in Eugene’s voice that tugs at a place deep inside. Throwing his head back, he comes in silent gasps while Gene presses up with his hips and down with his hand, shaking right along with Babe, their breathing no longer in sync. 

If he was able to think, he wouldn’t’ve believed it, can’t believe how hard he came or how inexplicably right it feels to be tangled together with this man, and he takes a second to relax against Gene, turning his head so his lips are pressed into the soft, black hair that’s usually hidden underneath a helmet. 

It’s not until they hear footsteps in the snow outside their foxhole that Babe clambers off Gene’s lap and they both spend a second righting themselves. The exhilaration is wearing off, and that sick feeling returns as he simultaneously listens to the footsteps draw closer and watches Gene wipe the mess from his fingers onto his already dirty and stained pants. He wonders if he’ll be able to see the difference in the stains later, a daily reminder of what they’ve done. 

The footsteps pass their foxhole, and Babe turns to look at Gene, notices the red flush on his cheeks and he thinks insanely (because this entire situation is fucked up) how beautiful Gene looks. The elation sparks slightly when Gene finally looks at Babe, his lips pursed and his dark eyes wide and Babe can’t look away, not even for a second.

Eventually, Gene grabs the green blanket from where it was pushed into a corner of the foxhole, and even though they’re already close, he presses closer and covers them gently. 

Babe stares dazedly at the dirt wall in front of him, wondering how the hell he be able to look Gene in the eye tomorrow morning. 

But then there’s a weight on his shoulder that wasn’t there a second ago, and when he looks down all he sees is the top of Gene’s head, that dark hair standing up in every direction, and after a moment’s hesitation Babe rests his cheek against that thick hair and closes his eyes. 

\---------------------------------------------------

_February ‘45_

“Babe? You all right?”

Babe opens his eyes and stares at Roe from where he’s laid out on the man’s bed, hands resting on his stomach, and stocking covered feet almost hanging off the edge. 

“I’m fine, Doc.” 

Roe looks at Babe curiously as he closes the door to the tiny storage room he’s been sleeping in since they arrived in Haguenau a few days earlier.

“Can’t sleep,” Babe says, and he knows he doesn’t need to elaborate.

Roe tugs his helmet off tiredly, lets it drop with a dull bang before shrugging his medic bag off his shoulder. He sets it carefully on the floor before walking to the bed and gently slapping Babe’s knee. 

“Move over,” he says quietly, taking a seat on the edge and leaning down to unloosen his boots. 

Curling on his side, Babe gives Gene more room on the bed, and the other man lays back, his eyes closing as soon as his head hits the pillow. Trying to keep his thoughts away from Jackson, Babe wonders if the bags under Gene’s eyes will ever go away, and that gets him thinking about the end of the war, (because there has to be an end, right?) and what Gene’ll go to back home. Shifting on the bed, Babe buries those thoughts deep down, ignoring the twisting in his stomach, and instead says, “D’you think they at least got some good stuff from those Krauts?”

“Maybe. Probably.”

Babe starts thinking of Jackson and how he pleaded for his ma, and the way Gene looked at Babe when the life finally left the young man’s eyes and Jesus, he’s starting to regret the quiet moments in war because there’s too much to think about. He’s casting around for something else to focus on or maybe even nothing, just a blank wall, _sleep_ for chrissakes, and it’s at this moment that Gene shifts next to him, sliding an arm underneath his head and pulling Babe to his chest. It doesn’t take more than a second for Babe to curl into Gene’s side, to wrap a leg around one of his and hold on tightly. 

“I can practically hear your brain turnin’, Babe,” Gene says softly, sliding his fingers up into Babe’s for once clean hair and carding through it gently. “What’re ya thinkin’ about?”

Babe shakes his head and presses closer, not wanting to bring up anything that’s hard to even think about. “Oh, y’know, the usual.”

Gene chuckles and Babe smiles against his chest, likes feeling the rumble of Gene’s laughter and his thoughts slowly and sweetly turn in a direction they shouldn’t but he can’t help it, not after he’s had it before. 

It’s like he’s drawn to the man – he needs Gene when the world’s gone all to hell.

He thinks Gene may have fallen asleep as his fingers start making trails down his chest, but when Babe reaches the belt on his trousers, Gene pushes up slowly with his hips and Babe knows he’s awake. Forcing himself to move slowly, to draw out what pleasure he can offer, he maneuvers his way into Gene’s pants, unbuttoning and moving fabric aside until his fingers are wrapped around Gene’s dick. The noise that escapes from Gene’s mouth starts a tingling low, low, low in Babe’s stomach and he doesn’t waste any more time. 

Pushing him back, Babe climbs on top, straddling Gene’s hips and pressing their erections together, feeling strange in this position but the feelings running straight to his cock overshadows everything else. Babe mouths at Gene’s neck, has a moment where he wonders what Gene tastes like, and he starts to move his mouth up a strong jaw line, intent on tasting him but that’s when Gene decides to unbutton Babe’s trousers and Babe drops his head to Gene’s neck again, bites down gently because Christ, those fingers…

They’re grinding and moving against each other, Gene’s hand wrapped around both their cocks, the other hand pressing against Babe’s ass and Babe’s sure he’s losing any grip he might’ve had on reality as he listens to Gene’s harsh breathing, the way those French phrases just curl right out of his lips and into Babe’s ear. A surge of emotion so strong it makes him shiver goes through his very bones and he lifts his head, watches Gene shake beneath him and a moment later Babe presses his lips to Gene’s and comes seconds after Gene whimpers into his mouth.

Afterwards, breathless and lying on their sides, Gene leans his head in slowly, cautiously, as if waiting for Babe to pull away, but instead Babe meets him halfway. The mouth that envelopes his is soft and wet and insanely hot. 

“What are we doin’?” Gene whispers once they pull back to catch their breath. 

Babe doesn’t have an answer, feels like the kissing’s brought them to another level, one which he doesn’t understand. 

“I dunno,” Babe answers, his voice quiet and cracking at all the wrong places. 

Gene watches him, searching his face for a long moment before leaning in and kissing Babe softly. 

\---------------------------------------------------

_September ‘47_

Babe’s nervous. 

It’s been almost two years since the end of the war. Two years in which a lot has happened. Things like getting a job, finding a steady girl, and buying a ring only to hide it away in his underwear drawer because the right time hasn’t come up yet. 

Guarnere set the whole thing up – the men are coming from all over the country, not all of them, but Babe can’t wait to see those that will be there. 

The bar is packed, and Babe’s given so many hugs and shaken so many hands it all seems a dream. There’s Toye, Luz, Spina. Winters and Nixon and Lip. Familiar faces no matter which way he turns. 

But then he comes face to face with Roe, almost knocks right into him when he turns to grab another beer and while he’s been silently coaching himself on how to act once they do run into each other, it’s all forgotten because _goddamn._

The memories come rushing back – cold foxholes and warm hands and a creaky bed in the basement of a hollowed out house – and now he’s pulling Gene into his arms, a peculiar feeling washing over him as Gene presses his face briefly against Babe’s neck. 

He doesn’t know what to say, thinks that maybe there aren’t any words that can do this moment justice, and the realization of how much he’s missed Gene hits him like a ton of bricks. 

They pull apart after a moment or two, conscious of the fact they’re surrounded by their friends and comrades, and it isn’t until a few hours later when Babe slips outside for some fresh air, head slightly woozy, that he has time to think about life. And Gene. 

“Babe.”

He turns, not surprised to find Gene standing next to him, his eyes cautious. They stare at each other, each looking for something – Babe searching for some kind of sign that those few times they spent together weren’t just fleeting moments lost in memory that should all rights be forgotten because life’s moved on. 

Babe wants to ask if Gene’s gotten married, if he’s got kids running around. Feels like he needs to know these things, but Gene takes the situation in hand and drags Babe down the alleyway, doesn’t stop until he’s got Babe pushed up against the brick wall. 

Babe whimpers, ashamed that the thought of his girl’s face isn’t enough to make him push Gene away. And instead he grabs hold of Gene’s shirt and pulls him closer. “What are we doin’?”

It’s déjà vu as they stare at each other in the shadows and he shivers as Gene answers, “I dunno,” before pressing his lips to Babe’s.

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a few drabbles which I thought would never go anywhere, but I couldn't help tying them together. I hope you've enjoyed it, and thank you so much for reading. xo - Lu


End file.
